


Telling Tales

by izazov



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2221194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/pseuds/izazov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Actions speak louder than words. Especially if there are words you cannot say. Not even if you are called Silvertongue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Telling Tales

The stone is heavy and cold in his hand, its surface smooth under Loki’s searching fingers.

Thor plucks it from Loki’s hand, turning it over, a frown creasing his forehead. “This is but a simple rock, Loki.” He says, and throws it down on the ground. “We have little time before the others join us, and I would have this place searched thoroughly before their arrival.”

Loki’s lips twitch in amusement. “Embarrassed of your origins, Thor?”

A grimace twists Thor’s features for a second, but he squares his shoulders, fixing Loki with a challenging look. “I do not feel shame for hailing from a culture that values honor, bravery and warrior’s spirit above all else.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “Mindless brawling, excess of arrogance and sanctimonious mentality depict a truer picture of Asgard and its people. Past or present.”

Thor sighs. “Would it be a great pain for you not to use that wicked tongue to hurl insults at a place that has been your home not so long ago?”

“Has been, Thor, and even then it had been nothing more than a convenient lie,” Loki bites back the torrent of words poised on the edge of his lips, ready to spill forward, at the flash of hurt on Thor’s face. He could give in to the resentment that still burns bitterly in the dark part of his heart at the mention of Asgard, but instead he grins, trailing a lazy path down Thor’s chest with his fingers, his voice dipping low as he continues. “You want me obedient? _Make_ me.”

A sound that tears from Thor’s lips is a growl, his narrowed eyes burning with annoyance and desire in equal measure. By the pained look on his face, it takes him a great amount of willpower to take a step back, and away from Loki’s teasing fingers. Loki merely laughs out loud, amused, letting his hand fall by his side.

“I will not forget this, Loki,” Thor forces out through gritted teeth, and Loki shivers, the flames in Thor’s eyes a silent promise of what should prove to be a rather interesting night ahead.

With one last lingering look, Thor clenches his hands into fists, and, turning on his heel, stalks determinately in the direction of what appears to be a stone altar, placed directly in the middle of the cavern that, by the appearance, in the past has served as a place of worship.

The cavern was found purely by accident. A group of spelunkers stumbled upon it by a stroke of luck, the pictures they took and posted on the internet eventually ended up in SHIELD’s database. It did not take long for SHIELD’s technicians to draw parallels between the runes carved into the stone of the cavern in Sweden and Asgard. Loki cannot help but wonder how long Fury had been withholding the information about this discovery from Thor. Possibly until his people had been unable to make any progress in determining the origin and possible dangers of this place. Fury, for all his seeming respect for Thor, has only one priority, and that is safety of this wretched realm. All else comes second. Even if he would never admit it, Loki feels something like admiration for the man’s determination and ruthless efficiency.

And now here they are, Thor, self-sacrificing as always, determined to face all the potential dangers of this place first. And possibly protect a part of Asgard’s heritage on this faraway rock from Fury’s greedy hands. Loki is merely curious. He wants to know to whom of Asgard’s pantheon this sanctuary had belonged. Odin? Tyr? _Thor_? He knows it had not been his name echoing between these stone walls in the times long past. This place reeks of blood and savagery, as if the stone itself has become saturated with it. Loki wonders can Thor feel it as well, the echo of long forgotten screams and bloodthirsty cries. Can he feel his blood heat up in answer.

A shiver runs down Loki’s spine as an image flashes inside his mind – Thor, savage and fierce, nothing in his eyes but flames of battle and death, Mjölnir raised high in his hand as blue vines of lightning coil around it. He can still remember Thor like that, and sometimes he aches to see him again, to face all his unrestrained power and fury, and bring him down to his knees. Thor will sink to his knees for Loki willingly if Loki asks it of him, Loki knows it, and is still amazed by it, but he is not Thor. His heart not as generous, his love never quite free of its dark twin.

Sighing, Loki shakes his head to clear it of his temporary sentimental foolishness. It has become not a rare occurrence since his and Thor’s relationship morphed into that of lovers. Loki will never admit it to Thor, it makes him too weak, gives Thor far too much power over him, but sometimes he dreams that the past four years have never happened, that he is still a runaway with no home and no clear goal in life, and the sight of Thor’s sleeping face is the only thing that can ease the icy claws of dread and fear clutching at his heart.

Loki intends to follow Thor, who looks completely engrossed in the study of the altar, but the stone captures his attention once again. He kneels next to it, picking it up. There is something in it, he can feel it deep inside himself where his own magic stirs restlessly, like a power contained, but not locked away, merely waiting for an opportunity to be unleashed. But, like Thor said, it looks like a mere, harmless rock, no matter what Loki’s instincts are telling him.

A loud, furious curse breaks the silence, and Loki looks up in time to see Thor raising Mjölnir above the altar, his eyes gleaming with disgust and anger, and Loki feels a sudden flash of panic.

“Thor, no!” He yells, standing up, but Thor ignores his warning, bringing the hammer with all his might down on the altar.

There is a loud crash as the altar splits in two, and Loki feels his breath freeze in his lungs as the stone in his hand heats up, and the runes Loki could not see up until now, start glowing bright red, the answering gleam reflecting from similar stones scattered all around the cave, and the last thing Loki sees before the cavern explodes in a flash of brilliant light is the look of surprise on Thor’s face.

******

Loki regains consciousness with a groan, aching all over, wishing for the painless comfort of unconsciousness when a thought makes his eyes fly open in panic, sending him scrambling up on his knees despite his body’s protests.

_Thor._

Loki sucks in a sharp breath at a sharp stab of pain in his left side. Grudgingly, he presses his hand against it, but his fingers come up clean. Slowly, Loki surveys the damage done to the cavern. There are fallen rocks scattered all around the cavern’s floor, flakes of dust still dancing in the patch of daylight coming from somewhere above. Frowning, Loki looks up, his eyes widening at the large hole far above in the cavern’s ceiling, his heart stopping dead in his chest as his gaze lands on the biggest pile of rocks. Stacked on the very spot the stone altar stood. Where Loki has seen Thor last.

Swallowing a cry of anguish, Loki surges to his feet, and only then does he realize that he is still clutching the stone in his hand. With a disgusted cry, he throws it down on the ground, noting a flicker of red with the corner of his eye. He ignores it, though, running to the large pile of rocks. He falls down to his knees next to it, panic and fear rendering his mind useless, but his hand move of their volition, throwing the rocks aside, desperate to reach what Loki fears is buried underneath.

A moan breaks through the string of images of blood and broken bones invading Loki’s mind, and Loki halts his movements, listening closely. When another moan sounds from the other side of the pile of rocks, Loki almost trembles in relief.

Loki doesn’t bother standing up, instead he crawls around the obstructing pile of rocks, his hands trembling when he reaches after the prone form lying there.

“Thor?” Loki asks, his voice coming out thin and trembling. He turns Thor gently, lying him carefully down onto his back. “Thor?” Loki tries again, and he cannot keep the naked panic out of his voice.

Growling in frustration at the lack of light, Loki flicks his wrist, intending to conjure up a glowing ball of light, but nothing happens. Loki tries again. And again. But the result remains the same, and Loki almost doubles over when the realization hits – he is powerless here. Something inside is preventing him from using his magic, and that means they are trapped until the rest of the Avengers come. Thor releases another groan, and Loki feels it like a stab to the chest.

“Thor, can you hear me?” Loki leans closer, trying to distinguish the expression on Thor’s shadowed face. “Thor, please.” His voice cracks, almost turning into an anguished howl, when another groan leaves Thor’s lips, and Loki’s head drops against Thor’s chest. He stays like that one moment, reveling in its slow rise and fall.

Ignoring the almost desperate urge to shake Thor into wakefulness, Loki takes a deep breath, shuddering breath and grudgingly lifts his head off Thor’s chest, willing his mind to calm down. And think. Magic, powerful and ancient is at work here, and it activated at the moment Thor acted against the altar. Which means Thor’s brash actions have triggered a protective enchantments someone has set up to guard this place from those who would seek to desecrate it.

“You reckless fool, never once have you stopped to think before resorting to smashing things with that damn hammer of yours,” Loki snarls at Thor’s unresponsive form, shaking with helplessness and almost paralyzing fear. “And look where it got you.”

Thor stays silent and oblivious to Loki’s words. Biting down on his lower lip, Loki forcibly stops himself from spitting further insults at Thor. But he wants to. Almost as much as he wants to grab the great fool by his neck, and simply _squeeze_. And Thor has given him more than enough reasons to fuel his anger. Coming here in the first place, being a reckless fool and causing this, but most of all, making Loki love him to the point it physically hurts to watch Thor in this state.

Loki rises to his feet, breathing heavily, his anger now directed at himself. He is better than this. Better than a pathetic, slobbering mess of foolish sentiment. He might have his magic restrained, but he has his mind and knowledge, and he will be damned if he allows some ancient magician get the better of him, no matter how powerful.

With one last look at Thor’s still form, Loki hurries back to where he threw the rock. Carefully, he lowers himself on his knees next to it, hesitating only a moment before picking it up. The stone is warm in his grip, the runes a faint, red imprint on the smooth surface. Frowning, Loki swallows against the sudden dryness of his throat, the weight of dread in the pit of his stomach growing almost impossibly heavy with the realization of whose magic this is.

Odin.

Loki’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, a sense of defeat washing over him like a tidal wave, but then another pained moan breaks through the almost deafening sound of his own heartbeat, and Loki’s eyes fly open. He is still alive, and so is Thor, and if he is to keep Thor alive, he needs to act, not despair over the irony of Odin’s own magic slowly killing his only son. 

Cursing himself inwardly for not taking the communicator Stark offered them, Loki lifts his eyes toward the hole far above his head. He knows the Watcher is not looking this way, for Thor would not be here anymore if he were, but he still whispers the name he has not uttered for years.

Loki waits with baited breath, the foolish hope dying inside his chest as seconds stretch into minutes, and no answer comes, leaving only the stark truth of Thor’s life slowly fading away with each passing moment. And Loki being powerless to do anything but watch it happen.

“No,” Loki whispers, his eyes fixed firmly on the stone in his hand, hysterical laughter tearing from his lips as he remembers the truth about himself he faces only in those ungraded moments between sleep and waking. “Not powerless at all.”

Loki’s magic might be bound by power greater than his, but there is magic inside him that not even Odin can bind. It is a part of him, ingrained deeply within his flesh and blood.

Loki’s true birthright – power over ice. Ice cold enough to shatter stone.

Shutting his eyes, Loki takes a deep breath. He has never done this. Never deliberately let go of his Aesir skin to reveal what truly lies underneath. Monster with blue skin and blood red eyes. But it is the monster, not the illusion, who has the power to save Thor’s life, so Loki lets the illusion go. The change comes easy in the end, like shrugging off an article of clothing. And in between two breaths, Loki feels a wave of energy wash over him, cool and light like a spring breeze. Nothing extraordinary happens next, nor does he feel any different, but when Loki opens his eyes, fingers closed around the stone in his hand are blue, not pale.

Loki stares at his fingers in morbid fascination, this time only mildly repulsed by the truth of who he truly is. Lifting his gaze, he feels something dark and furious uncurl in his chest, and suddenly he wants Odin to see this. To see his Jotunn foundling destroying his own creation, saving his only son in the process.

Clenching his fingers tighter around the stone, he lets the ice flow freely from his fingers. A thin sheet of ice envelops the stone, but that will not be enough. The stone needs to freeze under Loki’s touch. Freeze enough to crack. A vision fills Loki’s senses, vision of vast, snow covered planes, ice glinting in the almost complete darkness, and despite himself, Loki can feel something in him answer to it.

A moment passes, and Loki’s eyes widen in surprise as the temperature in the cavern drops, his breath coming out foggy. Loki can feel the stone in his hand grow colder, a sense of relief washing over him, but then the stone glows bright red, and Loki doubles over, the stone nearly falling from his grasp, when he feels a sharp stab of pain, as if a burning blade is digging deep inside the flesh of his stomach.

“Crafty old bastard,” Loki pants out, straightening as the pain momentarily subsides. A mere warning, then. Just to distinguish desecrators from foolish followers. Gritting his teeth, Loki tightens his hold on the stone to the point of pain, unleashing the full power of his Jotunn heritage. “But not crafty enough.”

As if answering Loki’s words, the stone glows angry red. Loki expects the pain, bracing for it, but it still manages to steal the breath out of his lungs. But not make him drop the stone. Or cease his actions.

******

Loki tightens his hold, reveling in the feel of stone cracking, turning to fine powder that spills through Loki’s fingers when he relaxes his grip.

Taking a deep breath, Loki wipes the blood from his lips, glaring at his hand as it shakes with the effort of accomplishing that simple action.

He will not survive this. Not if he continues. There are far too many rune-carved stones in this place, and Loki can barely stay upright after destroying only seven. But with every stone he destroys, the protective magic that is killing Thor lessens, and if the fates smile on him, Thor will come awake, and start to fight his father’s damn magic himself. Loki can only hope it will happen in the time it takes him to destroy five more stones, because he is fairly sure he will not survive the effort of destroying the sixth.

Grimacing, Loki rises to his feet, swaying slightly as he searches for the next stone. He spots one near the pile of rocks that obscure the view of Thor’s body. He sinks to his knees next to it, hesitating only a moment before reaching after it, his fingers freezing an inch above the stone when he hears a soft groan. He fights off the impulse to check on Thor. Coddling Thor’s unconscious body will achieve nothing useful. And since Thor’s damnable friends are in no hurry to arrive, it could even cost Thor precious time. Time he might not have.

Grimacing in anticipation of future pain, but driven by grim determination, Loki closes his fingers around the stone, freezing completely when he hears another groan, only not really. Not a groan this time, but a name. _His_ name.

“ _Loki_.”

Thor’s voice is weak and pained, but to Loki’s ears it is the sweetest tune he has ever heard.

Abandoning the stone, Loki scrambles to his feet, but he only takes two steps before he stops dead in his tracks. He is still in his Jotunn form, and he would rather kneel in front of the Allfather and beg for forgiveness, than face Thor like this. Though, he might not have a choice this time. Clenching his teeth together, Loki wills Odin’s illusion back, almost crying in relief when blue of his skin starts to turn Aesir pale.

A pained grunt, followed by a dull thud tears Loki out of his reverie. He reaches Thor just in time stop his efforts of trying to pull himself upright.

“Are you deliberately trying to end your life?” Loki scowls at Thor, arranging his body so that he half sits, half lies, his back pressed against Loki’s chest, Thor’s head leaning against Loki’s shoulder. “I wish you displayed this level of suicidal idiocy when your death had been my desire.”

“You used to lie better than this, brother,” Thor says, and despite being in pain, despite the magic draining his life force, he still manages to sound smug. “If you wanted my death, I would not be here now.”

“If you continue acting like a reckless fool, I might consider proving you wrong,” Loki snaps, glaring at Thor. Thor’s face is shadowed, but not so that Loki cannot see a gentle smile playing on Thor’s lips, draining Loki’s anger even despite Loki’s will. He wants to remain angry, anger keeps him distracted from the crippling fear that lurks just under his calm outward façade. Leaning down and shutting his eyes, Loki presses his lips against Thor’s forehead, inhaling Thor’s scent. “What were you thinking when you smashed that altar? You should have known better.”

Warm fingers close around his, but the grip is weak, a shadow of Thor’s usual strength. “I am sorry, Loki, I did not think, I…” Thor’s voice cracks, dissolving into a pained groan, that small sound hurting him more than destroying Odin’s runestones did. But Loki refuses to despair. Thor is awake, and alive still, and if the damned Avengers do not arrive soon, Loki will rip apart every single one of them. Even the beast.

Tightening his hold on Thor’s fingers, Loki reluctantly lifts his head, opening his eyes. He cares little now what made Thor angry enough to act without thinking, but he needs Thor awake, and any distraction from what is happening to Thor is welcome, as they wait for the arrival of the Avengers.

“So what did you find carved into the altar?” Loki asks, amazed that his voice comes out light, almost conversational. “Stick figures of yourself with various farm animals?”

A weak chuckle leaves Thor’s lips. “You think me so vain? You have hurled far worse insults at me. And you do it with more skill than anyone I have ever met.”

“Well, I cannot argue against that,” Loki concedes, a corner of his lips twitching despite the severity of the situation. “So what was it actually?”

Thor stays quiet, the moment of silence stretching long enough for Loki’s heartbeat to quicken in panic at a possibility of Thor slipping back into unconsciousness, so when Thor finally speaks, grave and disgusted, Loki misses the start of his sentence.

“… human sacrifices. In Father’s name.”

Loki has enough presence of mind to swallow the laughter at that, but just barely. Words, though, he cannot. “You said it yourself, Thor. Asgard values warrior’s spirit, and what best to appease a warrior god than blood of the innocent.”

“ _Loki_.”

Loki cannot see Thor’s eyes well enough, but he can feel their glare, and the tightening of Thor’s fingers where they are still entwined with Loki’s, is a valiant attempt at a warning. Sighing, Loki rolls his eyes, capitulating. Even he has difficulties imaging Odin craving human sacrifices. And he lacks neither the imagination, nor the incentive. “Odin undoubtedly favoured this place once, since he granted it his protection, but no god can be held responsible for what his worshippers do once he turns his eyes elsewhere.”

“Are you humoring me now, brother?”

“Would I ever do such a silly thing?”

Thor chuckles again, his fingers loosening their hold on Loki’s, their touch turning from a warning to a feather light caress. “Not in usual circumstances,” Thor says, his voice barely a whisper, and Loki has to dip his head lower to discern the words. Up this close Loki manages to make out the familiar lines of Thor’s face, scrunched into a grimace of pain, wincing when he spots a glowing, yellow ring around the blue of Thor’s eyes. “But these are not usual circumstances. I am dying, am I not?”

“Thor, stop.” Loki means his words to be a warning, but they come out broken. _Pleading_.

Thor does not.

“And there is nothing you can do to prevent it.”

Loki wants to shut his eyes under the weight of Thor’s gaze, full of understanding and tenderness, instead he does the last thing he wants. He tells the truth. “No, I cannot.” Not without killing himself, and even then, Thor’s life would still depend on the arrival of the Avengers. But Thor needs not to know this, so Loki doesn’t say it. It could still come to that.

Thor’s other hand rises slowly, settling on Thor’s favourite spot on the back of Loki’s neck. Sometimes, Loki thinks Thor’s fingers could find it without Thor even looking at him. “The fault lies on my shoulders, Loki, you have no part in this,” Thor says, smiling sadly, and Loki only barely manages to stop himself from covering Thor’s mouth with his hand, just to stop the words from leaving Thor’s lips. “I need your word, Loki, once-”

“Stop.” Loki hisses, his face so close to Thor’s now, he could bite the offending words directly from Thor’s lips, if Thor does not heed his warning. “This is not a goodbye, and I am not in the mood to watch you martyr yourself. Where is your strength, Odinson? Where is the god who commands storms and laughs in the face of his enemies? Are you _surrendering_ , Thunderer?”

Thor stares at him in wide-eyed awe, like he sees Loki for the first time, but then he smiles, and there is nothing but love in his eyes. “I have no intention of dying, Loki, but how can I fight against Odin’s magic when it is beyond even your skill?”

“With _this_ , you great fool,” Loki breathes out, the weight of dozen emotions clinging to his words as he splays his palm wide open above Thor’s heart. “Like you have done your entire life.”

Thor blinks, and opens his mouth to say something, but he stays silent, his face drawing into a frown as his fingers leave their spot on the back of Loki’s neck, coming to hover hesitatingly above Loki’s lips.

Loki grimaces. _Blood_. He forgot all about that.

“What have you _done_ , Loki?” Thor demands in a weak growl, his fingers trembling as they trace what Loki suspects are the smears of dried blood on his face. “ _Tell me_.”

“It is not important.”

Even as the words leave his mouth, Loki knows Thor will not accept them. He is right, of course. Thor’s eyes narrow, anger sparking to life in their depths. Loki is sure if Thor had any strength to spare, the fingers trembling against the skin of Loki’s cheek would be wrapped around his throat instead.

“What have you been doing while I was unconscious? And you dare to call me reckless. There is blood…” Thor’s words trail off, his lashes fluttering shut. Loki’s eyes go wide in panic, thinking Thor has lost consciousness again, but Thor’s eyes snap open, fixing Loki with an accusing glare. “I dreamt. Images of blood flowing down a stone altar, and… and someone was screaming in pain.” Thor pauses, his face contorting into a pained grimace. When he continues, his voice comes out strained, as if his will alone is what forces the words past his lips. “And that brought me back. But that was not a part of my dream. That was you.”

Not a question. An accusation, and Loki cannot lie now, no matter how many lies are already gathered at the tip of his tongue. He must not lie, because Thor is stubborn enough to argue his way into an early passage to Valhalla.

“You needed time,” Loki says evenly, fixing Thor with an unflinching gaze. He is not sorry about what he had done. He is not about to pretend otherwise. “I provided you with some. And,” he raises his voice in warning when Thor opens his mouth. “I will do so again if you overtax yourself into unconsciousness. The choice is yours, Thor.”

They stare at each other like two fighters in a ring, neither willing to surrender, no matter the cost. Loki is faintly surprised when Thor relaxes against him, his shoulders slumping in surrender, and his hand falling dejectedly by his side. “What would you have me do?”

“Just stay awake, Thor,” Loki breathes out in relief, shifting Thor into a sitting position. He keeps his fingers firmly entwined with Thor’s around Thor’s waist, twining fingers of his other hand in the messy strands of Thor’s long hair. _Stay with me_. “It cannot be long now, before your friends arrive.”

“I will try,” Thor whispers weakly, and for the first time since they had been children, Thor sounds uncertain. Afraid, even. “I am not certain… It is difficult, Loki. This is not a battle I know how to win.”

Loki becomes aware he is biting his lower lip only when the taste of copper floods his mouth. But his voice comes out strong, his fingers moving steadily through Thor’s hair. “Ask me anything, Thor, and I will grant you your wish.”

_Just stay awake_.

“You have never been so generous and so careless in your chosen words, Loki,” Thor chuckles feebly, but he sounds amused, not lost and uncertain. Loki counts it as a victory.

“And who would believe me even if I meant them to be true?”

“I would. And I did. Not once it ended with me reaching after an illusion of you. But I have always been a fool, as you enjoy reminding me.”

Loki’s lips twitch in amusement. “I will not apologize for the past, Thor,” Loki says solemnly. “ _That_ would be a lie.”

“I do not seek the words I know you cannot say, Loki. I never did,” Thor says softly, and damn the bastard, even now, weak as he is, he is still stronger than Loki could ever hope to be. But that is also something Loki will never say out loud. “But there are words I would welcome from your silver tongue, brother. I wish to hear a tale. Any should do.”

Loki blinks, uncertain. Thor has managed to really surprise him only a handful of times in the past, and he does it _now_. With such a silly request. “Out of everything, you ask for a story?”

Thor chuckles again, but Loki does not miss how his body becomes rigid against Loki’s, nor does he miss the sharp intake of breath Thor tries to cover up with his laugh. “I have little strength for what I would ask of you if you made your offer any other time.”

“Now you are simply cheating, Thor,” Loki smiles, tugging at one of the blonds locks. “Curiosity will not make me repeat my offer in the future.”

“You know my weakness, Loki. But I also know yours.”

Loki’s eyes flutter shut, Thor’s easy spoken words like a tip of a dagger against his chest.

You _are my only weakness, you fool_.

Another truth that will remain unsaid. And how many truths did this accursed day bring to light? How many still remain? Possibly only one, but Loki dares not even think of the possibility of breathing the air in the world without Thor in it.

“Why a story, Thor?” Loki asks, finally, his voice sandpaper rough.

“Your voice called me back from a nightmare,” Thor admits after a moment of silence, his fingers squeezing Loki’s tighter, both a plea and a gesture of comfort. “Perhaps it will be enough to keep me from returning there.”

The memory comes unbidden. Dragged forth by a particularly cruel part of his own traitorous mind – Thor’s face, contorted in absolute agony, his outstretched hand reaching after Loki as he falls down, all the way into the welcoming embrace of the abyss.

Clenching his teeth together, Loki feels something warm and wet sliding down his cheeks. Never before had he imagined how Thor felt then, nor had he wanted to, but if it had been any similar to the aching hole Loki feels in the place of his heart right now, if he were Thor, he would have never forgiven himself.

And Thor had done it _twice_.

But Loki will not apologize. Not even now, with Thor’s body weak as a child’s against his own in what could be his last moments. He cannot.

But he _can_ tell a story. After all, that is what he is best at.

“A story, then,” Loki begins, tasting the salt of his own tears on his lips, but his voice comes out sure, another lie in the day that is meant for truths. “I believe here is customary to begin every tale with exactly the same words,” Loki pauses, more for show, than out of hesitation, his lips curving into a smile as Thor tries to turn his head to look at him, but Loki stops him with another tug at his hair. Surprisingly, or not considering how weak he is, Thor relents. “Once upon a time, in a faraway land, lived two brothers. They were princes of that land, one destined to rule it when the time comes.”

“Is this to be a sad tale, brother?” Thor asks carefully when Loki pauses. “I think it is also customary here to end every tale with the words ‘and they lived happily ever after’.”

_Only if you leave me_ , Loki thinks, his arms tightening around Thor in response to that unwelcome thought. _And even then I would find a way to the golden halls of Valhalla, and drag you out_.

Of course, Loki does not say it. Instead he dips his head lower, his lips brushing the hair on top of Thor’s head. “It is a bit sad, like every tale worth remembering, but mostly it tells of younger brother’s mistakes and the elder one’s forgiveness.”

Thor goes rigid against him, and his fingers, even in Thor’s weakened state, are iron vises around Loki’s. “I am sure the elder brother was not without fault.”

Loki cannot help himself, he chuckles. “No, he was not,” Loki whispers. “He was arrogant, and brash, and he believed all too much in his younger brother’s lies, but his foolish heart had always been in the right place.”

“And the younger brother’s heart?” Thor asks, softly, carefully, and not long ago, Loki would swear Thor incapable of such subtlety. But, like the younger brother from his tale, it is hardly the only mistake Loki has ever made.

“It will spoil the story if I tell you everything, but I believe there is hope for him yet.”

“There was always hope, even when he fought hard to destroy it,” Thor says, and Loki is not sure should he kiss him or hit him for his foolish, misplaced sentiment.

_But where would you be, Liesmith, without Thor’s foolish sentiment?_

“Who is telling this story, Thor?” Loki chides, but there is something warm and light starting to bloom inside his chest, and it is enough to ease the hollow ache inside it. “Me or you?”

“We both are.” Thor says fiercely, and for a second, he sounds like he always does – loud, and strong, and bursting with life.

Loki opens his mouth, but the words freeze on his lips when the light coming from the hole in the ceiling suddenly dims. Slowly, Loki looks up, and even if he cannot see him clearly, he recognizes the familiar outline of Stark’s suit. His breath hitches in his throat, the rush of blood in his ears almost deafening, so it takes him a moment to realize that the sound of laughter echoing in the cave is coming from him.

“Now I will never hear your tale, brother.” Thor says, and this time Loki allows him to turn around in his arms.

Loki smiles and brings their foreheads together. “You already know how it ends,” Loki whispers, and Thor’s answering smile is almost blinding in the dim light of the cave. “And they lived happily ever after.”


End file.
